


3.03 am

by FrangipaniFlower



Category: Homeland
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Love, alternative ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 06:32:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7256308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrangipaniFlower/pseuds/FrangipaniFlower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exploring what might have happened if Carrie had called Quinn the night after her father's wake.</p><p>New: Sequel called 9 am, posted on June 23.</p>
            </blockquote>





	3.03 am

**Author's Note:**

> This is my promptfill for the combined prompts # 1, 15 and 28 in our big prompt game on LJ:  
> http://carrie-quinn.livejournal.com/125637.html#comments
> 
> There are 52 great prompts waiting for writers or new writers.
> 
> Clearly the question what would have happened if Quinn went to Missouri still bugs many of us.
> 
> After Koalathebear explored that quite a while ago in her wonderful What if-series, I wanted to explore what might have happened if they'd gone together right away.
> 
> Thanks to Homemade Lemonade who gave me food for thought with her comment about how their friendship was at stake in 4.12 as well.
> 
> Laure001 and I chose the same prompt and to upload our stories at the same time as we always love to explore how different the outcomes are when we start from the same point.
> 
> So, I guess each and every one of you could write an own version about that phonecall and roadtrip, am I right?

 

2 am

She didn't find sleep. Tossing and turning, getting up, checking on Frannie, another glass of water, swirling thoughts, Quinn, Frannie, Saul, her father, she missed him so much and no sleep. Not even rest. She knew how dangerous her current state was, far too less sleep, emotional overdrive, the jetlag had messed up her med's schedule anyway, Maggie had upped her mood stabilizers but she felt the strange undercurrent raising and pulling.

She missed her father so much. She felt how another wave of grief was inundating all other thoughts and feelings and was so afraid to give in the urge to cry, because it felt like she'd never able to stop ever again when she started now. She would completely loose it, the grief and pain would wash her away and she would end in the psych ward again, again leaving Frannie behind, no need to give Quinn an answer then, she'd be locked away then for good. She wished she could drink but Maggie had warned her, her current dose of lithium being this high would have a desasterous effect when combined with drinking. The sip of whiskey had been a forbidden guilty pleasure already. She wouldn't care for herself but she had promised her father to take over from him for Frannie. And she couldn't disappoint him just after a few days.

How much she wished she could talk to him. _Just once more_. To tell him she'd be with Frannie now. And to tell him about Quinn. How she wanted to say yes and how afraid she was to fuck it up. To condemn him to wander through the depth of her pain because she had lured him into something she wasn't ready for. There was no try and error for this one. No second chance. If she'd say yes and mess it up, she'd destroy him.

And people like she couldn't have relationships. Not real ones. Sooner or later she'd do something and make him leave. Or worse, make him suffer. Because he was so fucking reliable and wouldn't leave her. Not like her mum.

But she understood why her mom had left. Even if her father never ever had lost it as terribly as she herself had. She understood why one chose not to share a life with a fucking bipolar mess. But why did she come back last week? After all those years? And why did leaving Dad meant leaving her daughters too?

And why did their Dad never talk with them about their mother? Not even with her, as kind of bipolars' guide how to fuck up relationships?

Dad...she missed him so much, it was a palpable pain, it was coming now, every cell of her body hurt and she wouldn't and she couldn't...and if Maggie would find her screaming or drinking...and Frannie...the house was suffocating her, she needed to breathe...

 

3.03 am

His phone rang in the middle of the night. He was awake anyhow. Joy, arousal and excitement had been replaced by doubt and fear at around midnight, self-conciousness had crept in at 1 am, slowly turned into self-loath, and at two he'd been back to the one uniteral question: why should she want to be with him? And why was he risking to destroy the one and only relationship in his life which meant something to him by asking a question he never could make unasked again. There was no way back to being friends now if she said no.

He knew it'd be her. Or Dar. He had heard the rumours about the mission to Syria. 48 hours max, he estimated until he'd get his marching orders. Would she give him his answer in time? And what if she didn't?

_It was her. Thank god, it was her._

"Hey", she heard his voice, low and soft, and suddenly it didn't feel so fucked up any more to call him, out of all people. She had not many friends, it had been a painful thought yesterday when she mentally had counted who'd come to her wake. Saul, Max, Virgil, Maggie and her family, and Quinn, hopefully. Well, after Islamabad she probably could cross out Max from that list. And Virgil, always fucking mother hen about his brother, probably too. Her father obviously had been more successful. So many people and so many had shared fond memories. Bridge Club, church choir, sunday jazz brunch friends, grandfathers' playgroup on Saturdays with Frannie...

But putting all this to side, the only person in the world she wanted or even could talk to about loosing her Dad was still him, Quinn. Like in Islamabad. Maggie had told her and the only person she wanted, needed to be with her had been him.

So she had called him, now, five seconds ago. Like she'd called him in Islamabad.

"Carrie?"

"Quinn...I..."

"Are you alright?" He wasn't sure but she sounded stricken. _Well, asshole, she buried her father today._ Out of the sudden he felt crushed by a wave of guilt. He'd kind of ignored that fact back under the trees, thinking it might the only occasion ever to come up with the courage and tell her, putting his own desperate need for an anchor to swing around before her grief, she'd been through the hoops and he had just added an extra layer on top of all the mess. If only there were more time. 48 hours tops if he was lucky.

"Quinn. I...I don't have an answer yet...and that's not a no...please...but..."

"Carrie, I'm sorry...I shouldn't...Carrie, what is it? Are you crying?"

"I...I'm sorry...I shouldn't have called you...it's just..."

Fuck, it was so good to hear his voice. Today, outside the church, when she'd seen him there...she hadn't known before exactly how heavy her heart had been before that weight had been lifted the moment he'd hugged her.

"No, it's ok. Where are you, Carrie?"

"In Maggie's garden. I couldn't..."

"I'm coming. Give me fifteen minutes."

He made it in twelve. _Two fucks for red traffic lights at the middle of the night._

After climbing the neighbor's fence he landed about fifteen yards away from her with a soft thump. She sat in the porch swing, tears streaming down her face.

"Hey. Carrie."

It was not exactly that he felt prepared for this, grief counselling hadn't been part of his training and was very unknown terrain to him. The backyard had no other chairs, there were the table and the chairs they'd sat on earlier on the terrace but back here in the garden was just the two seater-swing. So he sat on that as well, carefully managing to keep himself a few inches away from her. There was one thing he really needed to get off his chest right away.

"Carrie, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said what I said tonight."

"Didn't you mean it?"

Fuck, he should have seen that one coming, Carrie was never one to just let go. But the damage was done anyway.

"I did. But still I shouldn't have asked you today. Today's about your dad."

She felt a pang of regret, it felt like he was kind of recanting the things he'd said and done but before she could examine those feelings thouroughly the mentioning of her Dad made her cringe.

"C'mere", he said softly and pulled her into his side, "you look like you could use a hug. Just a hug."

And finally she could let go. Cry out the pain, the loss, the agony, knowing he would prevent her from falling apart. Like he had prevented her from sacrificing Saul.

And he thought how this was what he should have offered her earlier that day, a shoulder to hold on to and an embrace of comfort and solace.

After being a bit stiff in the beginning he felt how she settled in his arm, melted into him, rested her head against his chest, her sobbing was heart-wrenching, and he just held her, there were no words to ease that loss, he knew that and so he didn't even try.

And he thought how lucky he was to be allowed to be with her through that, to be _that_ person for her, if there was nothing else she still had chosen him as friend. He'd cursed her, abandoned her and turned his back to her in Islamabad when she apparently had needed him and yet today, outside of that church she'd literally welcomed him home. He hadn't gone there with the plan to dump all his needs and wants over her, but it had felt so good to be part of that...of her life...she had let him in, he'd been there as a friend, he'd held her child, had chatted with her sister, since when did he even do small talk, and when they had sat outside with Saul and Lockhart he had felt an odd sense of complicity and he'd been sure she had felt it too. And when she had walked him to his car...yeah, well, it just had happened. But how could she have been ready for this? At the night of her dad's wake?

Her sobbing was slowly ebbing away but she stayed in his arm and if he had a say in this she would stay there all night.

"You know, I just wished I could talk to him. Just once more." Her voice was thick from tears.

"What would you like to tell him? If you wanna share. If not of course..."

"That I'm here now. Taking over. Taking care for Frannie. That he was a great dad. And grandpa. That I love him. That I wish I would be as great as he as a parent."

Her last sentence made her cry again, he felt her trembling in his arm and instinctivly pulled her closer. _She shouldn't be up and outside all night, she should lay in a bed, get some rest._

"Don't you think he knows that? You were his girl after all."

She considered his words. For a long time.

"He always had faith in me. He's bipolar too, so he's the only one who really understands how it is."

He noticed how she was still using present tense but didn't comment on it. Why should he?

"How the meds dull you. How going off meds offers that small window, before everything goes down to pieces, but just before that, how there is that small window of time where things are so clear, so lucid, and everything's just so brilliant, and how this is worth all what happens then. How my condition is a part of me. How much I hate it. But what huge part it is. How it scares me. Maggie is always all about my meds, keep taking them, you need a higher dose, less stress, regular meals, stop drinking. But my dad...he knows how being bipolar is not only a burden but means seeing things nobody else can see, feeling emotions nobody else can have, how it is, in that small period of time, just _more_ of _everything_."

If she was speaking to him or herself, it didn't matter, he was just amazed by the intimate insight she gave about her condition. Her voice was very low, he had to concentrate to get everything but he wouldn't interrupt her.

"And how deep one fells when the highest high opens the door to the deepest deep, how ugly and desperate that is, how nobody gets it, how everybody fights you with responsibility and well measured arguments, but how they just don't get it."

 _That_ he had seen, after her hearing.

"It's a scary condition. Especially when kids are involved."

They were silent for a while. When she wasn't going on he decided to ask her a question. He really wanted to know.

"What about your mum? How did she deal with that?"

Apparently completely wrong turn, he felt her stiffen under his arm, urging to back away, which he prevented with a small measured kick to make the porch swing gently oscillate so she jolted against him again.

"Not at all. She left just before I started college. Shortly before I had my first episode. I guess she couldn't take it anymore. His enthusiasm about stupid senseless projects, his nightlong agitated rants about politics, his jazz sessions in the middle of the night, listening to records for hours, loud, because this music has to be played loud, he used to say that, only then it makes your soul swing, and then those days when he couldn't get up, didn't wanna listen to Jazz, didn't wanna watch the Orioles, just sticked in a grey depession. I guess that's tiresome. I guess nobody can want that."

Here he had to object. As much as he had been determined to just listen.

"You don't know that. If the person one _wants_ to be with goes through...I wouldn'...shit, Carrie, you know I wouldn't..."

"Quinn, you have no idea how bad it gets. My dad's good at taking his meds, never really lost it since my mum left, although Maggie had to grow up fast to take care of her two lunatics. But he never had to go into the clinic since then, always took his meds, kept his job, raised enough money for the three of us, sometimes streaks of depression but not too bad. Only the jazz nights, he kept doing that. So sometimes we were very tired at school. My case is tougher than his. I get worse."

She fell into a long silence while he kept the swing gently moving by canting his right foot, evaluating her words. Something bugged him, something didn't really fit.

"After all you told me now...did it never occur strange to you how your father sticked with you girls all those years whereas your mother left? Sounds to me like a pretty stable great Dad. Condition or not. Mine hadn't a condition, well, no other than advanced asshole-ishness, and didn't stick around that long. If your Dad's being bipolar was the reason, why did she leave and not he? Or why did she go alone, never looking back to her girls?"

"I don't know, Quinn, I have no idea. We never spoke about her. I never spoke with her."

But he was right.

_Sometimes the truth is so downright simple or twisted or both that you just don't see it. And then someone is asking the right question and it unfolds._

"I need to ask her that."

"You know where she lives?", he asked and it was so very Quinn how his tone just kept a perfect balance, no judgement, no doubt.

"Missouri", and she told him about last week's visit and her own reaction, still curled up against his side or honestly more or less half on his lap by now. At some point he had started to caress her back with soft strokes and she felt so secure with him. It even overpowered her urge to jump and run to Missouri right now.

"So, want me to book a flight? We could be there in a few hours." He didn't ask if he should come along and she didn't ask if he would, somehow it was out of question that he'd go with her. And mentally he decided to fuck those 48 hours and the upcoming mission, there was no marching order yet, right, and as long as they didn't get hold of him...he'd text Dar and switch the fucking phone off right afterwards. This here was where he was needed right now and in an odd way which probably spoke volumes about his sanity it felt fucking good to be that person for her.

"Nah, I'd rather drive. Driving helps when I'm this agitated. I can't up my meds anymore, the dose...is already very high...after Islamabad..."

Suddenly she felt ashamed, remembering the state she'd been in after that sleazebag of an ambassador's husband had changed her meds, she just wasn't ready to adress this side of her illness with him, last night's conversation and his proposition still too fresh in mind.

"It's a 14 hours drive each way, Carrie. And you haven't slept all night. Is it driving what helps or just being in a moving car, the monotony of the view while moving?"

"I don't know", she honestly didn't, it was not that she'd ever tried to be in the passenger seat, there was simply no one to drive her around, "but I guess the later."

"Well, then...give me an hour to get some clothes and I'll pick you up then. We can take turns driving, how does that sound?"

That sounded reasonable, a quality her own decision making did not always have these days, at least she was aware of that.

He didn't go back to his place though. All his clothes and few personal possessions were still in Islamabad, Astrid would ship them these days. And there was a small risk that Dar had someone waiting for him at his place anyway.

So he drove to the mall at Pentagon City and bought a few items of clothing and some other stuff, among it a toothbrush and toothpaste and a duffelbag. He changed into jeans and a shirt right away, used the customers' toilet for brushing his teeth and somehow sorting his hair and went to Clark's to get some boots.

  
9 am

  
He was back at her sister's house about an hour later, and walked up to the front door after having texted Dar and Lockhart about needing two days personal time for family affairs. Lockhart texted back immediatly, a brief 'Sure, take care.' and he was still the god damn acting director of the CIA so he switched his phone off, telling himself that he technically wasn't going AWOL. But still he decided better not to wait for Dar's answer.

Carrie was outside, putting a bag in the trunk of her car, her sister and Frannie with her.

-Hey. Good morning.

He tousled Frannie's soft hair, sensing an uncomfortable tension between the Mathison sisters.

"Peter, good morning, I can't believe how she's dragging you into this", Maggie started right away.

Carrie said nothing, just slammed the trunk shut. He got it, he'd be pissed too if he'd be adressed as third person singular in such a conversation.

So he stood next to Carrie, briefly touched her shoulder, hoping to convey a 'I'm on your side here' and turned to Maggie only then.

Frannie giggled and brabbled on her aunt's arm and stretched her chubby arms towards him.

"May I? Hey, good morning, young lady. I invited myself for that trip, nobody dragged me. I'm old enough, no worries. Are we taking you along, little missus?"

"Maggie offered she could stay."

"It's a far too long drive for a little child."

"She'd be fine", Carrie snapped. Time to intervene.

"Yeah, she would. But we'll be back faster if we have to do fewer child-friendly breaks. So kiss your mummy goodbye, sweat pea."

The girl gave her mum a moist smacker and surprised him with one too. A strange feeling, strangely welcome. He tickled her round tummy and handed her back to Maggie.

"Thanks, Maggie."

"When will you be back?"

"Two days, I guess. We'll let you know."

Carrie didn't speak until she pulled into the parking lot of a coffee shop a few miles out of the suburb.

"Gosh, her passive aggressiveness just kills me each and every time. For a change this time it's all about you, how I can pull you into that mess right away."

"I'm fine, Carrie, I'm fine. She's just worried, I guess. It's her mom too. And now let me buy you breakfast."

She settled at a window seat and watched him at the cashier's desk, placing their order. He was a beautiful man, tall and slender, albeit muscular, she had felt his muscles when she had leant into him multiple times yesterday. That kiss had been...a great kiss...but what he was proposing was more so much more than a night or week or month together and she had known right away how he deserved on honest answer. Honesty was not her strength but for him she had tried to go there last night, to find out what she wanted and could give. And that had brought them here now, somehow. Which was the real surprise. Being honest meant to admit - at least to herself - that the kiss hadn't been such a surprise...or a very welcome, kind of expected surprise...what he had asked her then had been the real surprise and had knocked her over...but how he'd been with her last night, had held her through her grief and had steered her to the gist of the matter in no time, her fucked up relationship with her mum, her fear to be abandoned, her grief to have lost the only person in the world who understood and loved her unconditionally...that had been exceptional. So much...tenderness. Patience.

That wasn't the guy who had gone for her throat in Islamabad and had been willing to sacrifice his own life to take revenge for all the lives taken by Haqqani. Or was he? When she had been on top on that bomb, she was pretty sure it had been a bomb, and had talked to him on phone, she still thought there had been tears in his voice.

The cashier girl smiled at him and he gave a small, controlled smile back. Not a real one. But she had seen those rare real ones yesterday. And they had made her heart jump.

He scanned the surroundings while he was waiting for the coffee. _He's still on high alert. He probably always is._ She thought she saw a glimpse of a gun holster under his jacket when he turned to pick up the coffee. _We're both fucked up. He's just better in hiding it._

And somehow that realization calmed her down a lot.

"Avocado with Feta or Ham and Cheese?"

"Huh?"

"Bagel. Which one do you want?"

"Feta please. Thank you."

He settled at the table and she realized how this was a first too. They'd shared many take out meals, sandwiches and coffees but never had sat somewhere together during a day off, not even on a workday, and shared a meal or even a cup of coffee in peace without hurry in public. Does that make it a date? His eyes rested on her face while she had the first sip of coffee, taking in how pale she was, nearly grey. But right then he thought he saw the tiniest smile, just a curled up corner of her mouth. _A penny for your thoughts, Carrie._

He had no idea what they'd do once they were in Missouri but there would be at least fourteen more hours to figure that out. For now he wanted her to drink and eat and then rest a bit.

10 am

She drove the first two hours while he pulled some favours via phone at Langley to trace her mother's adress.

They'd have the adress by noon. He insisted on a swop when she had to yawn, saying it was another 900 miles, she'd have plenty opportunity to show off her driving skills later. And she surprised herself by giving in and feeling comfortable with it. He handed her a small travel pillow when pulling back into the highway, eyes on the road. It looked new. She felt her throat closing and couldn't even utter a thank you. So she squeezed his hand instead, for a brief second, and then leant into the pillow against the door frame, closing her eyes and drifting off within seconds.

After an hour he decided it was safe to cast a glance. She was apparently deep asleep, snuggled into the pillow roll, breathing deep and even. He dared to reach out and put a strand of hair back behind her ear, wondering if he'd ever be allowed to kiss that mouth again.

But being allowed to be here with her now, that she is sleeping under my watch, isn't a too bad sign, is it?

She slept for three hours, then he rested for an hour, eyes closed but awake, so he happened to notice when she touched his hand for a short moment, although he had no idea what that was about.

  
9 pm

They drove, taking turns every few hours, until nine at night, entering St. Louis then. She'd done most of the talking, random memories of her Dad, had shed some more tears in between but mostly her grief was silent now. And sharing those memories helped. Saul had once told her how a jewish shiva lasted seven days and how the visitors wouldn't talk until the mourner did and that it was mostly about giving the mourner a chance to take leave from the beloved one and to share memories. It was a time between times, no need for social necessities for the mourner. One didn't except the mourner to greet or farewell the visitors nor to offer food, not even to shower or apply any other standards of personal grooming. And after seven days, the mourner would do a short walk to symbolize re-entering society.

Quinn would make an excellent shiva guest, she thought.

He insisted on calling it a day, here in St. Louis. They hadn't had a break since breakfast, both could use some more sleep, it was another two hours drive, she wouldn't wanna confront her mother at midnight anyway and with surprisingly few fighting she gave in. _Just another indicator how miserable she really is._

He followed the road along the river, stopping at the next motel.

As she went towards the ladies' room right away he headed towards the reception, just to learn there was only one room available. And that they'd highly likely wouldn't find anything else within 50 miles due to a music festival which started today. They just had that room available due to a last minute cancellation just several minutes ago. So he took it, he could sleep in the car. Or on the floor.

She didn't comment on it, just said she was hungry.

The receptionist had told him about a small restaurant, southern cuisine, just a short stroll down the river, so that's where they went and ate in silence.

It was just afterwards when they were heading back that she spoke again.

"My dad would have like this."

"The food?"

"That too. But the whole thing. He liked crazy road trips."

It was just natural that his arm went around her shoulder to pull her close.

"See. I said you are his girl. Irish whiskey, jazz, road trips, Orioles fan...I think I like your dad."

And she stayed. Didn't pull back, didn't stiffen, even hesitantly put her arm around his waist.

That was how they walked back and they both wished the way would be longer.

Ar the motel he was heading towards the parking lot but she called him back.

"You're just getting your bag, are you? We can share, can't we? Just share?"

The room was small but had a queen sized bed and several blankets. He checked when she was in the small bathroom. As she came back in pj's he settled for boxers and shirt when using the bathroom himself, spending a few extra minutes there to give her time to settle for the night.

He thought she was asleep when he re-entered the room and slipped under the sheets, assuming he'd be unable to sleep for another couple of hours.

"Why me?" she asked in the dark of the room, from the opposite edge of the bed.

He kept silent for so long that she wasn't expecting an answer anymore.

"Because I think we could be great together. Or, no, we'd not be great. Can I rephrase? We'd bring out the best and the worst in each other. And when it's the best we'd be great. And when it's the worst we are the only  
ones knowing how to take it without getting destroyed", he paused, considering his own words, searching for a way to finish. In the end he went for "Well, ain't that romantic?"

She kept it silent for a long while and he thought she wasn't going to answer, what was there left to say, he had made in sound like a therapy prescription, hadn't said all the other downright scary things he felt.

  
_Because when I look at you the world stops turning._

 _Because I wanna protect you from harm and evil and yourself._

_Because with you, for the first time, I feel there could be love and a home for me._

_Because I wanna cradle you, make love to you and fuck you senseless, and give myself to you._

_Because with you my life suddenly made sense. ___

_Because you are the first thing I think about in the morning, the last at night, and every minute in between._

_Because you are in my dreams and possess my mind and soul...and heart...didn't know what that is before you._

_Because you are the only person I can picture myself to be with for longer than a couple of hours._

_Because your smile lights up my world and your tears are my deepest grief. ___

_Because I need you to ground myself, to stay away from the darkness._

_Because I can't do it on my own. I need you._

  
But then she answered, almost a whisper.

"That's a fucking beautiful, honest thing to say."

And with that she closed the distance between them and scooted over to his side of the bed, nestled herself in his chest and mumbled an "Ok with that?" for permission and drifted off, thinking how it could be that she never had seen him this way.

_That's not true. I made him come to Islamabad because I trust him. I wanted him there. And he came. And if he'd died there...it was the truth, I can't loose him. ___

And he had the best night of peaceful sleep since Caracas. Without even having had to come close to a drink at all.

  
6.30 am

They got up early and left right after. Carrie was very quiet and very pale, her hands fidgeting all the time. He had no idea if she had any regrets about last night or if she was just nervous about the events ahead of her. And he didn't know what last night had been, just that it had felt so good to hold her and to feel her all night. She'd never moved away and he had woken up with his nose in her hair, his arm around her shoulder, her arm on his chest.

They had long left the path of what was somehow known ground to him, he had no idea how to navigate here, what they were or were not or would be or not. So he just took it how it came, trying to anticipate what she might need or find helpful or what was better to avoid. Talking about his proposition and his feelings belonged to the later category, he sensed. Although he was painfully aware of the rapidly decreasing amount of time which was left until he'd be in serious trouble with Dar.

_Maybe I should just go on that last mission and give her time to figure out what she wants. After so many years one more or less..._

But here was the thing, he didn't want to go on another one, didn't want to kill again, didn't want to put his life out there again.

And deep down he knew that what he liked most about their current trip was this - that for once he was not only the exchangeable weapon, highly appreciated for his skill set, but mattered to someone, no, to her, as a person. How it made a difference to her that he went with her. At least he hoped it did but it was not that she would share personal memories and her grief with everybody or would she?

8.30 am

She'd dropped him at a coffee shop a mile away from her mum's house, saying she needed to do this alone. She'd call him if needed and if not she'd pick him up later, whenever that was meant to be.

Unfortunately that required him to switch on his phone again. Three voicemails from Rob, a text message from Dar. He didn't further check the messages as he knew what they'd said anyway.

He had four cups of coffee and browsed through three newspapers before she texted him two hours later.

*Meet me outside. Bring coffee please.*

She was in the parking lot, pacing around her car like a caged animal.

He handed her the coffee and a granola bar and leant against the hood, waiting for her to choose to speak.

"Can we go for a walk? I can't sit still now."

"Sure."

He'd checked the surroundings on Google Maps earlier, there was a park two blocks down the road, so he took her there. She walked at a pretty fast clip, not paying attention to what happened around her, he had to pull her back to the pavement once to prevent her from getting overrun by a van. He made a mental note to himself to not to let her drive herself today anymore.

The park was small and they had done two rounds before she stopped at a bench, sat down and finished her coffee.

"I have a brother. Half-brother, that is. She was pregnant when she left. My dad's not his dad."

Half-brother kind of implied that, he thought, but knew better than to say it out loud.

"Shit, Carrie, she told you that right now?"

"Kind of. She wasn't home. But the...boy...was. Told me she's at work, she's a preschool teacher. So I went there. She hadn't much time, I'll see her after her work again. But bottom-line is, she was pregnant when she left us."

"Fuck, Carrie, that his..."

"Yeah, that is...totally fucked up..."

"What time will you meet her?"

"When she's off work. Three-ish. God, I am getting a headache."

Without thinking he put a hand down on her nape and gently started kneeding it, amazed by how she sighed and closed her eyes. He pushed himself up to sit behind her and pulled her between his knees, continuing his efforts on her tense muscles more thouroughly this time. He had told her what he wanted and this was clearly part of the package and if she didn't want this she could tell him.

But she didn't object and he thought that might be a good thing.

"Quinn?"

"Hm?"

"I really could use a drink now."

"You said you can't drink because of your meds."

"I know."

"What else would help?"

"I don't know."

"Is that okay?" He had started to rub out some of the hard knots in her shoulders while talking and added some more firm pressure to keep her seated.

"Yeah, it is. But you can't keep doing this for like three hours."

_You have no idea, Carrie._

"But I could keep going for a while. If you want that. And then we'll go for another walk and have some lunch and it'll be 0300 in no time."

And that's what they did. They didn't discuss it but this time he drove with her, taking the keys from her when they approached the car.

3 pm

"Fuck, Quinn, I'm scared", she mumbled, eyes on the ground of the parking lot as he was about to open her door.

He considered her words for a moment. But as his cards were out open anyway and she had brought a topic he thought she might even hope for a reaction. So he let go of the door and turned back to her, pulling her in short embrace.

"No need to be scared. You'll nail her to tell her what you need to know. And I'll be right outside, waiting for you, okay?"

"No safe distance this time?", she quipped, teasing tone, and he couldn't help it but had to chuckle.

"That was a long time ago, Carrie."

It was just short drive. He stopped at the main road and watched her walking down the driveway, saw her tensioning her shoulders again, wondering if he'd be allowed to kneed the tension out again anytime soon. She was back very soon, too soon, and her expression gave nothing away.

She'd talk when she was ready.

"Heading back to DC?"

A small nod, nothing else.

6 pm

After three hours and no word she asked him if they could stop somewhere, she needed to use a toilet. When she didn't come back after some minutes he went into the shop of the filling station, finding her at the cashier's desk, about to buy a bottle of wodka.

He took the bottle, put it back, grabbed orange juice instead and paid.

"Wanna do another walk?"

"Yeah."

He took her to the large park at the Mississipi and Missouri confluence, asking her to drink the orange juice before they left the car.

"What are you, Quinn? A preschool teacher?"

"No, just worried."

Her expression visibly softened.

"I'm sorry. I'm...glad you're here. Thank you."

They walked at her usual rapid clip for about an hour and then she started talking.

"I always thought, being bipolar meant one can't be with anybody because nobody can endure that. Not even my own mother could endure that. Not with my father and not with me. My father never said it hadn't been his fault."

_As if having a condition can be a personal failure._

"I thought she left because it was too hard. I thought she left to protect herself. That she'd endured it for too long and then just had to leave, to protect herself. But now...she left because she was pregnant. With my...with that boy...from another man. And it wasn't the first time. She was a cheater, an adulterous cheater. She left her family to have a new family with someone else. We were just not good enough. So she opted out and went for a bonus round. And decided not to let us know."

"Not even your father?"

"I asked her the same thing. Thought maybe he knew and somehow wanted to protect us, Maggie and me, from the truth. But no, she said she just left and never spoke to him again. They didn't even get divorced as he didn't know where she was. She said she once sent him a note she was not coming back and he shouldn't wait or look for her."

"And he never did?"

"As far as I know, no. He thought she left because of his condition. That he was...too much."

"That's a pretty...", actually he had now words to go on. But Carrie had.

"A pretty shitty assholey mean thing to do. But here's the thing: What can I say about mothers abandoning their children?"

"Carrie, that's not the same and you know it."

"No, Quinn, it is exactly the same thing. You were the one incriminating me for it. Don't think I didn't hear you just because I didn't react in the way you wanted me to. I left Frannie here with my sister when I went to Kabul and then..."

"This is not the same. You left her with your sister and were in contact. You called, you skyped, you always meant to come back. You just needed some time."

"No, Quinn, there were times when I didn't plan to take her back. Even now, I don't know how to...I mean, fuck, look at me. I don't know if I can do it. And she barely knows me. She mamas Maggie."

"And that bugs you?"

She hadn't really thought about it, it had just happened last morning when things had been very tense between her and Maggie. But now...fuck, how did he do this? Always putting the finger on the sore spots, while being so fucking calm and steady. Reliable.

"Yeah", he could hear her annoyance and was pretty sure that at least part of it was not about the fact that her daughter mama-ed her sister, "it bugs me."

"So, see, there you go. You wanna be a mum. You came back to her and you'll be her mum now. She won't even remember her stay with Maggie when she's grown up. Autobiographic memory doesn't start before age of two and that would be very early anyway."

"Shit, Quinn, I have no idea, how to do it. Do I move out and have a place of my own? Do I stay with my sister? Do we...", but then she stopped, deciding she wasn't ready for this conversation now. So she changed topics, back to Ellen.

"I'm just so fucking sad for my Dad. That he never learnt how it wasn't his fault. That she didn't leave because of his condition. He never met someone else. Although I assume given the amount of people there on his wake there must have been someone who had been interested at some point. I mean, that's just a matter of statistics. Among 200 people, half of them women, probably just one or two, but that's not too bad, one or two out of a hundred..."

Now she had lost him, she wasn't really calculating the statistic chances for another love interest of her deceased father, or was she? He decided to just let her rant and talk, as long as it distracted her from her urge to drink it wasn't such a bad thing.

They walked about three hours and it was dark by the time the made it back to the car. And as much as he hated to admit it, he was getting a tiny bit itchy about figuring his shit out with Dar and Rob. Probably he really should be back within their reach soon. That or officially quit.

9 pm

It was another ten to eleven hours drive and they decided over a quick dinner to pull it through, taking turns with driving. She was too agitated to sleep anyway and for him sleep was kind of dependable. He had had a good night's sleep last night and probably would have another opportunity to sleep on plane soon. He felt how his mind about the upcoming mission changed like every minute and he hated it. He wished he could talk to her about it but she had so much on her plate. And he couldn't bring that topic up without talking about...his suggestion...

Most of the drive happened in silence, they only stopped for taking turns behind the wheel. As far as he could tell she slept twice for about two hours but most of the time she was staring into the dark night. At some point she had turned on the CD player so some mellow jazz was pouring into the car.

He was wrong. She didn't sleep. Her mind was racing, her dad, her mother, who had been a cheater, his dad's illness not being the reason, a lifelong believe just collapsing like a house if cards, being bipolar had not been the reason for their parents' relationship failing and what did that mean for her, and for Quinn, and how should she come up with an answer, but he deserved an answer, and honestly the answer was yes, but she couldn't say it just now in the car, and he looked so tense, his jaw clenched, and she didn't know why, maybe her ranting and raving about her mother had put him off, but honestly she didn't know what she'd done without him today, or she knew exactly, she'd bought that wodka, and did his proposition include Frannie, and maybe she should just tell him it was a yes and ask him to...maybe to go out for dinner tonight and talk and make plans or maybe right away to spend the day with her and Frannie or to go to his place first, but no, that sounded...greedy...maybe a bit seedy...fuck, she had no idea how to do this.

9 am

It was almost 9am when they entered the suburb where her sister lived and still she hadn't uttered a word. Maybe it wasn't right, in the car, making it sound too trite, but it wasn't trite, and maybe she should talk to her sister first and just there Maggie opened the door and came out with Frannie in her stroller.

"Quinn...I...fuck...I think I need to talk to Maggie first...but I'd like to...", fuck, Maggie had already spotted them and came across the street, "...to see you later. Uhm, in the afternoon maybe?"

"Sure, just give me a call when you're ready." And with that he was out of her car, briefly stopping to greet Frannie and Maggie, and then in his truck, driving away.

And she hadn't said any of the things she wanted to. Not even thanked him. She never could really explain later, but when she wanted to get out of her car and was about to ask Maggie to sit down for a cup of coffee and talk, she suddenly felt an urge to follow Quinn right away, like any further delay in answering his plea might be...just too late...

So she didn't get out of her car, didn't greet her sister and child and didn't suggest coffee but just turned the ignition back on, turned her car and followed him.

Thank god for his ridiculously large truck, easy to spot while staying at least five cars behind, as she had no idea where he lived now. It was just a short drive down North Street, one of the shabby motel complexes close to the highway, no wonder he didn't feel home here.

She saw him entering the complex at the same time as a smaller man, mousy hair, but something in his walk told her he was a soldier, special forces probably, designed to blend in.

And she hadn't even delivered her 'yes' yet and Dar had already someone at his heels.

So she climbed out of the car and followed them. When she'd rounded the front building and approached the pool area she saw them, the new arrival a good five inches smaller than Quinn, probably a few years older, in less good shape, talking to Quinn.

And she saw Quinn's eyes.

Unbelievable sadness. What the fuck?

So she moved closer, no reason to hide, she decided.

"We're 20 percent less likely to pull it off without you. And more likely to loose men."

And just then that asshole handed Quinn something, she couldn't really see what and added a "to loved ones in the event of our non-safe non-return" and grunted "Then this is your job."

She had heart about those letters, thought it was a cliché, but it must be those letters and suddenly she just snapped, stepping forward to approach the two men, grabbing the stash of letters from Quinn and smacking them against the other one's chest.

"You know what? He said, he's out and not coming. And even if he didn't say it yet, it's what he's going to say. So why don't you take those fucked up letters, bring them back to Dar Adal and tell him to go fuck himself and shove them up his you-know-what. This is mean, cheap emotional blackmail, you or Adal or both of you are just trying to play him like a fiddel, to pull him back in by calling at his loyality. I am giving you the benefit of doubt, so just take those goddamn letters and make yourself fucking unseen."

She was looking into two incredulous faces, one clearly amused, the other unreadable.

"That must be Carrie", the visitor finally smirked.

"Yeah, I'm Carrie. And I'm no third person singular. I. am. standing. right. in. front. of. you, Mr. what's his name. So you heard of me. I'm sure Dar told you about Crazy Carrie. That's me. Leave's one fucking question: Who are you?"

Quinn had refound his voice, the unexpected spectacle had dumbstrucked him.

"Carrie...", clearly trying to soothen the mood. God, she was furious.

"You don't carrie me. Shut the fuck up." She focussed back on Rob, who was clearly having the time of his life, as far Quinn could tell from his grin.

"Or you know what? That was probably disrespectful to the heartfelt feelings of the members of Dar's personal army of black stained poor souls. Forget the part about shoving up somewhere. But let's get to the non-safe non-return bullshit. I've got news for you: that goes without saying in your fucking line of work. You should highlight that passage in your team's respective job descriptions. And it's beyond respect how you're trying to use this to lure Quinn back in. So that's it. He's out. Resigning. Finito. Do you need it in writing? No? Goodbye and have a nice life. That's in case you survive, of course."

"Hi. I'm Rob."

He had the audacity to offer her a hand but Quinn had enough.

"You heard her. I'm done. I'll see Dar later today. I'm sorry. Good luck."

He stepped forward and the two men hugged each other, brief and hard.

"Have fun with that crazy hellcat of yours, Quinny boy. Oh my god, you are in for a wild ride."

It was just when he turned back to Carrie that he allowed himself - beside all the turmoil Rob's appearance and well-measured message had caused - to notice the warmth which spread somewhere in his core.

Just, Carrie cleary was having none of it. She scrutinezed him with averted eyes.

"So, that leaves you. When were you exactly going to tell me how that motherfucker of Dar Adal is already at your heels again? Quinn, we just spent about 50 hours together and you didn't even mention it once. So, what was going to happen if I had not followed you? I'd try to call you in a few hours and your phone's disconnected and you're gone to some shithole in Syria? Self-extract, non-safe, non-return? I'd be pretty fucking sad then. Because I was going to say 'yes' and...", but she didn't get further. He was with her with two steps, enveloping her in a tight embrace.

"Will you shut up for just a second?"

"Make me."

"I will, in a second. Just asking if you're really sure about this. Cause you just opted for an unemployed black ops specialist."

"Well, same goes here. Unemployed CIA operative. Makes us quite a pair, I guess."

And with that she wrapped one leg around his calf and pushed her weight against him, surprise clearly on her side, and made both of them splash into the pool behind him.

Puffing and snorting they came up again, her left arm around his neck.

"Fuck, Carrie, what was that about?"

"Speeding things up a bit. Now you have to ask me to come in and take my clothes off. And you have to get yours off too. So I thought before one of us gets doubts or second thoughts again..."

Treading water he manoevered them both towards the more shallow water where he could stand and held her with both his arms.

"Fuck, Carrie, next time just ask, uhm? And I'll promise to strip naked right away. And now come in and get the wet clothes off."

She was about to say "See?" but he had his way to make her silent right away.

And that kiss was even better than the one two days before.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, your comments are highly appreciated.
> 
> And yes, I am helding a long bred anger against Rob, how he played Quinn in that scene.
> 
> I had to delay Rob's visit for about a day, but I guess you all are ok with some handwaving here.


End file.
